


different times in the same universe

by lamourestout



Category: SKAM (France), SKAM (Italy), SKAM (Norway)
Genre: (Characters), :/ i hate that all these bad tags are for nico, Catholic Guilt, F/M, Gen, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pansexual Character, and allowing ex girlfriends to not be demonized to the extent that they are sometimes, and... as always... Cute Boyfriends, anyway actual tags, even & nico & eliott all have different chapters, internalized ableism, it's just a coming out fic, supportive best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-02-27 04:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamourestout/pseuds/lamourestout
Summary: coming out to the most important people in their lives, a study in time & reactions.





	1. even.

**Author's Note:**

> maybe i wrote this because of a certain unnamed "discourse" that's been going on but also because i've been thinking about how even, nico, and eliott are different and totally had different coming out experiences across the board. most of the Bad tags are for nico's chapter.
> 
> anyway, me giving them supportive friends and the best coming out response that i can? you bet. 
> 
> Nico and Eliott's chapters will be up soon, i'm finishing and editing them over the weekend! hopefully!

Even is fifteen. He’s fifteen and has been dating Sonja for three weeks. And he’s still a little afraid of being gay and spends the loud hours of the middle of the night with hateful comments from forums and YouTube comments and everywhere else bouncing around his brain. But, he has some  _ good  _ comments, posts, things he’s read and he knows. 

These are facts. He likes Sonja and wants to date her. He isn’t dating her to hide the fact that he’s  _ actually gay _ . 

And  _ hopes  _ that Mikael will understand. Or at the very least, not get up, hurl slurs at him, and walk out of his life for good. Mikael doesn’t necessarily have to  _ understand _ , he just ━ Even wants him to know. He needs to say it out loud. He needs to say it and maybe he says it outloud and it sounds wrong and he needs to find a different label. But for now, he  _ has  _ one. It makes sense.

Even says it confidently, even if his voice is a little nervous; he says it in the afternoon sunlight of his bedroom, him and Mikael working on homework.

He only has one class with Mikael this term. He has three with Sonja, one which he also shares with Yousef. He won’t tell Sonja that he likes the class with Mikael best ━ but maybe that’s more the content of the class. He hates English class, and he hates math because he feels dumb sometimes when Sonja breezes through the work and he’s stumbling around and has to ask her for help. 

“Mikael?” Maybe he’s only confident in his repeated practices of how he’s going to tell Mikael. 

“What’s up?” They’ve been sitting in companionable silence, Mikael actually working and Even worrying himself to pieces. 

“I’m pansexual.” He had thoughts, ideas of how to lead up to it, better frame it. Tuck it nicely into a well thought-out and mature explanation of how he’s figured it out. 

The truth is that it’s not nice and well thought-out. It’s what his words are, blunt and nervous and his eyes unable to meet Mikael’s. Even though he’s not ashamed. He’s  _ not  _ ashamed. It’s just that he’s fifteen and he doesn’t know anyone else like him and he feels very,  _ very  _ alone. He has to tell someone. Someone like Mikael who is the only one who knows about other private things about him. 

The meds he has hidden in the bottom of his backpack. 

How he cried the first time he got drunk. Like bawled and curled up against Mikael like a baby. He doesn’t know what he cried about. Mikael probably knows, but has never brought it up. 

Mikeal, who knows that he doesn’t really believe in a god. But they’ve never let religion or, now, a lack of religion, get between them. 

Mikael, who now knows  _ this. _

“Alright.” Is the first thing Mikael says. His stuff metaphorically set aside. An empty table for Even to set down his feelings. “I think I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know exactly what it means.” Even just settles into relief for a minute. 

“It means I’m attracted to people of any gender. Girls, boys, anyone.” He still sounds nervous, he knows, and Mikael is just listening. He can see the tiny bit of confusion in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. He’s said his piece. Mikael knows. Mikael can go read about it if he wants. 

“You’re going to be unstoppable.” Mikael finally says, and Even just narrows his eyes at him, confused. 

“What?” 

“You’re the only one of us with a girlfriend, and now you can pull from all camps? There’ll be no one left for the rest of us.” Even just rolls his eyes. Even has acne pockmarking his face and he’s halfway through a growth spurt that leaves his bones aching in the morning and he thinks the only reason Sonja likes him is he’s not as much of a dick as some of the other boys. Which is good. He doesn’t want to be mean to her. Why would he want to be mean to her? Or anyone else? Or maybe she likes him because he always wants to go to the movies and she gets a free movie ticket. 

They’re early in their relationship, he doesn’t have to worry like this.

Mikael knows he’s pansexual. He knows and it lifts a little of the heaviness in his chest. 

“Just don’t tell anyone else?” He already knows Mikael won’t say anything. He just wants to have that confirmation that he can reassure himself with.

“Of course not. It’s your thing.” And, “If I told you I was gay or something I wouldn’t want you to spread it around.”  

(He doesn’t realize, too caught up in his own mind at the time, how Mikael’s voice skips lightly over  _ gay _ , almost afraid to lean into it too much or he might reveal something. He doesn’t realize until he’s almost twenty-one and Mikael does the same thing when he tells Even, hesitantly and quietly, that  _ he’s gay _ . And Even doesn’t have to ask what that means, he can just pull Mikael into a tight hug and apologize for everything he thinks is his fault, apologize for not being around for too long, apologize for ━ things he doesn’t need to. But also remind Mikael that he’s here, now, for always. And to say, “I’m happy for you.” And, “I’m proud of you.”) 

 

He’s seventeen before he tells Sonja. Sonja, who also accepts that it’s something that he’s said. Something that he attributes to himself. But she doesn’t seem to quite understand  _ exactly  _ what it means; she spends weeks working herself up and worrying that it means Even is not fully attracted to her. 

Which is  _ not  _ true. He finds her  **very** attractive, all the time. 

But there’s a lot of her pointing out people when they’re on a date and asking him if he’s attracted to them until he feels exhausted and just wants to go home. He asks her to stop doing that, that him being pansexual doesn’t mean he wants to fuck anything that moves. It just  _ is _ . And he’s not angry with her, and it soon just becomes an established truth that she might not understand. 

He buys a little pin with the pan pride colors on it anyway.

(He doesn’t pin the colors onto his jacket until he’s twenty; instead, it hides in the back of his desk drawer, and in fifty other hiding places around his room because he doesn’t want his mom to find it.) 

 

“What does this mean?” It takes Isak a day to notice the pin on his jacket, but he’ll give Isak a pass because he put it on one morning but freaked out a little before they even get to the tram stop, his jacket folded over his arm the rest of the day. 

“It’s ━ the pan flag.” He barely stumbles. “I’m pansexual.” Isak nods appreciatively, fingers tracing the heart shape, tracing the smoothness, and can probably feel how fast Even’s heart is beating. Isak’s hand moves away from the little pin, coming to rest on Even’s shoulder, squeezing it a little, but then just resting steadily. 

“They compliment you.” They haven’t really  _ come out  _ to each other. It’s not ━ a question of  _ do you like boys?  _ Because they both clearly do; they’re dating. And living together. They clearly like each other. 

Love. 

Each other. 

“You’re not weirded out?” Isak, fully seriously, absent of any amused eyerolls.

“No. I don’t find anything weird, anymore. Anyway, your sexuality isn’t weird. It’s important.” He sinks back into that pool of relief. Not that he thought that Isak might break up with him just because he’s pan, but there’s always a prick of worry. A prick of worry for a lot of things. 

“Thank you.” He says, quietly. Isak smiles softly at him, leaning in to kiss him quickly. Chastely. More of a reassurance than anything else. He’s reassured. 

“Do you think I should get one? With like ━ a rainbow on it?” Isak seems to already be building a list in his mind of places to look online. 

“If you want.” Isak worries the inside of his cheek for a minute before lifting his gaze from Even’s chest, meeting his eyes. 

“I’m gay.” 

“Okay.” 

“That’s it?” 

“Do you want me to act really surprised?” Isak purses his lips a second, shrugs, grins. 

“Yes.” 

“ _ Oh my god Isak, I can’t believe it! You? Gay? I’m shocked. Stunned. I can’t believe it _ .  _ I thought we said _ **_no homo_ ** .” Isak’s laughing, eyes rolling, and leaning in to kiss him again. Catching him for longer, and his hand is warm on his neck. 

“Thanks.” He says quietly when he pulls away.

“Thank you for trusting me with this.” Even replies. He remembers rumors and control ripped away from Isak. He never assumed they were right. Isak’s sexuality is his own just as his sexuality is his own. 

“Thank you.” They can do this all day. Even, instead, opts for the day where they are late for school because he can’t stop kissing Isak. 


	2. niccolò.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've had this 3/4th written for two weeks now but finally got it finished today whoops. eliott's chapter will hopefully be up in the next few days! 
> 
> there's some religious talk in some of this chapter and internalized homophobia and albeism because of it. it's kind of heavy in general, just as a warning.

Nico is three months out from a panic attack at church, and not at all a subtle panic attack; his hands shaking, breath gone, knees collapsing once he gets into the old, disgusting bathroom at the back of the church. 

It’s not subtle because they keep talking about all the things that worry away his nails and worry away his sleep and his appetite. 

He says  _ talking  _ but he really means  _ preaching _ . 

Condemning. 

He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe. 

The three hours from when his parents leave every Sunday morning until they get back, his mind just reminds him that he’s a sinner. Sinner. 

**_SINNER_ ** . 

Not just because of ━━

But because he doesn’t have a reason to not go to church. Missing church is a sin. If he were sick, he would have a reason. But he doesn’t. Just curled up in his bed trying to block out the voice in his head. (It’s his own, echoing what he’s heard at church.) 

Because all of the things that make it hard for him to get out of bed sometimes, the things that make him impulsive and the reason he has meds in carefully sectioned off containers, are all  _ his fault _ . Obviously. It’s his fault, that’s what they’ve told him. He just isn’t close enough with  _ The Spirit _ . 

If he were a better Catholic, then these things wouldn’t be happening. ( He doesn’t think he wants to be a better Catholic.) 

But it’s also because of ━━

He can’t tell Mica during the day. He’s tried saying it outloud before, but he has only whispered it. He doesn’t know what it means for him; he could just ━  _ not  _ be that and just move on and hide the drawings he’s made. The drawings that are out of the norm for him. He, who normally draws in black and white, sketches of anything and everything, now have tinges of pink and yellow and blue. He does it because he can’t  _ not  _ add it in. 

He can’t tell Mica during the day because he can’t handle what would happen if he saw Mica’s face tighten into hatred and condemnation. 

But he can tell Mica in the dark, from a sleeping bag on the floor in Mica’s room because Mica only has a twin bed, and they’re fifteen and too big to share a bed. From a sleeping bag on the floor in Mica’s room because he can’t handle being around his parents tonight. They’re driving him crazy. Luckily, he’s  _ ‘always welcome’  _ here, though, he might not be after he says this. He can... find somewhere else to sleep if Mica hates him. Or, maybe he won’t sleep or ━ 

He’s biting away his nails again. 

“Mica? Are you awake?” It’s quiet, so Mica can hear but his parents can’t. 

“You won’t stop moving around, of course I’m still awake.” Half-irritation, sliding together with lingering concern because Nico  _ did  _ show up here randomly. 

“Can I tell you something?” It’s dark in the room, but Nico can see the shadows by Mica’s bed shift as his friend sits up a little. 

“Sure.” 

“I’m ━”  _ a coward,  _ “━ pansexual.” It doesn’t sound very confident. It sounds scared and hangs heavily in the air between them. Mica shifts a bit, and when his voice breaks across the darkness, it sounds weird.

“I don’t know what that means.” 

“It means ━ I am ━ I can be ━ attracted to people of any gender. So I ━ I might date a boy, some day.” Unsteady, halting, rushed out. 

“Alright.” Nico doesn’t know what he wanted from Mica. Acceptance? Understanding? He doesn’t know what he expected Mica to say. It doesn’t sound bad, it just sounds like Mica isn’t used to this kind of thing, doesn’t know what to say, but his arms feel cold. 

“Is that okay?” He says after a long time. After Mica has settled back down against his pillow. He sounds like a child. 

“It doesn’t bother me.” Mica tells him and Nico feels like he’s going to cry. It’s okay, Mica doesn’t hate him. Or, at least, doesn’t hate him right now.  He feels shaky, but it’s okay. 

“Don’t tell anyone?” 

“Of course.” 

“Thank you.” He breathes out. Mica makes a sound of acknowledgement, and Nico thinks he’s probably falling asleep.  _ Nico  _ doesn’t sleep. 

 

Saying it doesn’t change the fact that he’s afraid of it.

He paints his nails once after reading that it’s supposed to help stop nervous nail biting habits. He doesn’t want to be sixteen and still biting his nails like some sort of child. Maybe he should have picked the clear nail polish, but he relied on what he could nick from Maddalena’s room. Too afraid to buy something at the corner store. 

He and Maddalena aren’t dating yet, just in some sort of  _ talking  _ phase that his friends tease him about, tease him about how quickly he replies to her. How he checks his phone every minute. 

He paints his nails and he realizes, once he’s done it, that ━  _ maybe he shouldn’t have _ , and he destroys the bathroom, silently begging that his mom has nail polish remover  _ somewhere _ . But she doesn’t and he has to clench his teeth and scrape the nail polish off, even though the sound of it is probably the worst thing he’s ever heard. 

The worst thing until he does it again because he doesn’t know what else to do because his nails hurt, and it’s supposed to help, and he just doesn’t know what to do. The worst thing until he’s just sitting with Maddalena and talking in the hall before they have to go to class, and they’re dating now, and some bastards from some higher class think it’s funny to shove him a little when they pass by him, white noise of  _ gay, queer  _ panicking him, and Maddalena finds him twenty minutes later, in a corner in the bathroom, trying to stave of a panic attack, trying to scrape the nail polish off of his broken nails with equally broken nails. 

It’s the first (and only, he thinks,) time that Maddalena skips school. Skips to take him back to her place, because her parents are at work, and she lets him sit against the cool tile of their bathroom, lean against the bathtub, as she gently takes her nail polish remover and carefully takes the nail polish off. 

“I’m not gay.” He hates how much he has to deny it, how he has to shove it back down his throat and he can’t tell Maddalena. That he might even be a  _ little  _ gay. (That’s not right; it’s not gay or straight, he knows that, but ━ it’s all too much and he’s afraid.) 

“I know.” She doesn’t mean anything by it, her soft hands holding his. 

“I don’t know why I did that.” She’s three months older than he is, but it feels like she’s three years older than him. 

“Mamma used to paint my sister’s nails when she was little, to try and stop her from biting them. Is that ━ ?” She leaves it open ended, grabbing a tissue to wipe the excess nail polish remover off of his fingers, his nails, even though the feeling of the tissue on his nails makes him bunch his toes in the ends of his shoes. 

“Yeah.” His head rolling to the side to rest his forehead against the coolness of the bathtub. “Sorry.” He still can’t quite breathe properly and he rubbed away all his tears and his throat is choked with words and hatred for himself. 

“Don’t apologize.” She runs her fingers over his hair, twisting curls around her finger and letting them fall back against his skin, “They shouldn’t have said those things.” He lets out half of a sob, and Maddalena just murmurs nothings. 

“What if ━” He can’t breathe, again, and he’s already so exhausted, 

“Nico, hey, just breathe, don’t worry.”  _ Don’t worry _ doesn’t do anything.  _ Just breathe  _ doesn’t do anything. He tries to breathe, forcing himself to breathe, and it hurts, and they’re not even breaths. 

“I’m sorry I’m making you skip class.” Is what he says when he can laboriously breathe  _ almost  _ properly. 

“It’s no big deal. It’s probably good for me to skip class. Loosen up a bit? So long as my parents don’t find out.” Her hand rubs over his back, carefully letting him take his time, and he appreciates it. 

“I don’t want to go back.” He breathes against the bathtub. 

“We don’t have to. We can go do something else.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m going to go make us lunch, okay?” Maddalena murmurs, and he nods. 

And how long he sits there, curled up in on himself isn’t important. What’s important is that  _ it happened _ and he hates it. Hates how afraid he was. 

 

He does tell Maddalena. Eventually. A bit shakily. 

“Are you breaking up with me?” She asks him after he asks if they can talk. 

“No.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, leaning back against the counter. “It’s not that.” 

“What is it?” She moves closer to him, trying to catch his eye, but he refuses. He wants to tell her but he also doesn’t want to tell her. Just in case she shows horrible colors and hates him. In case she outs him. In case ━ In case ━ he’s prepared for everything. He’s already prepared for what he’s going to do if she breaks up with him. 

“It’s ━ I’m ━” 

“What’s wrong, Nico? Are you sick? Do you have to go ━ back to the hospital?” She’s quiet, moving closer, the fear that everyone around him has that he’s going to go  _ crazy  _ again seeping into her words. 

“No, no. No, not that. It doesn’t have anything to do with that.” He’s  _ not sick _ . This isn’t him being sick. 

“Okay, then tell me.” Her voice has shifted away from  _ that voice _ , “You’re not breaking up with me, so what can be so bad you don’t want to tell me?” It’s shifted away from  _ that voice _ , but it’s still a little hurt. 

“I’m pansexual.” He doesn’t know what he expected to happen, or how he expected his voice to sound, but he sounds flat. Afraid. Withdrawn. 

“What does that mean? That’s not just a new way of saying you’re gay, is it?” He’s shaking his head quickly, 

“It means I can be attracted to anyone.” He finally looks up at her, fearing but  _ needing  _ to see her reaction. 

“Okay.” She says at first, “It doesn’t change us, though, right?” He doesn’t tell her he’s known since before they started dating. 

“No, it doesn’t change anything.” 

“Okay.” 

Maybe he should have told her that he’s known for years, because two months later when he’s frantically memorizing the Quran because Mica will leave if he doesn’t know everything about Islam, and when he tries to break up with Maddalena, overwhelmed because he’s  _ in love  _ with Mica, she throws it back in his face. Says that this  _ pansexuality  _ thing is just his excuse to hurt her. His excuse to cheat on her and  _ experiment  _ and  _ Nico, you’re failing your classes!  _

Then, it doesn’t matter what she says. He’s in love. 

Until he isn’t, and he kisses Mica and everyone leaves. Everyone leaves. Everyone leaves him. Everyone’s  _ going to  _ leave him. 

Everyone but Maddalena who sits as a watchman over his hospital bed. Who slowly but surely shifts from  _ girlfriend _ to  _ caretaker _ . But she doesn’t leave, so maybe there’s something to that. She’s not really his girlfriend for a while before he meets Marti. 

He mentioned it to his parents. Threw the word out there, gave them a definition. Waited for everything to come collapsing around him. 

It didn’t. He’s one of the lucky ones. Maybe it’s the  _ I’m attracted to girls _ part. They don’t have to think about the  _ attracted to boys, everyone else _ part. 

In the end, even if it takes everything out of him for a week, he’s glad he tells them. Then, when he talks and talks and talks about Marti they  _ know  _ how his feelings are. They’re not  _ hey, there’s this guy I met at school, I think he’s cool and want to be his friend _ . They’re  _ he’s my boyfriend  _ feelings. They’re  _ I might be falling in love with him  _ feelings. 

And his mother isn’t mad that he has a boyfriend, she’s just mad because he has a pattern of repeating, self-destructive behavior and none of them want to see him in a hospital bed again or see him fail another year of school. But he can’t believe she can’t see how happy Marti makes him, or why she has to throw Maddalena’s thoughts back in his face. 

And he’s not as afraid of it anymore. He knows how he feels. Everyone else just doesn’t understand. He and Marti are in love and it’s for real this time. 

 

“Nico?” A glance up at Marti and he can tell Marti’s been working up to whatever question is next on his lips for a while. A hum of acknowledgement, to tell Marti to go on, and he sets down his pencil. “When I told the boys that I’m gay ━ and I told them about you...” Marti shifts a bit in the chair, “They were speculating if you were bisexual or something. I told them I didn’t know.” An unspoken question of  _ are you?  _ resting in the air between them. 

“I’m not bisexual.” It’s so much easier with Marti. Marti, who doesn’t seem to care, but maybe just wants to know. “I’m pansexual. It’s similar. But pansexual means anyone. I can be attracted to anyone.” 

“Does anyone else know?” 

“My parents. Maddalena. Some of my old friends.” Marti nods, and a bit of a smile creeps onto his face, 

“Do you want anyone else to know? The boys would ━ be interested.” Nico shrugs. “Obviously, you don’t have to tell anyone. It’s not a big deal. They’re just nosy about these kinds of things. Especially Luca.” 

“Maybe I’ll tell Filippo.” 

“You don’t have to do anything, I’m being pushy. Sorry.” 

“No. You’re not. Seriously.” There’s nothing wrong with what Marti is doing. He figures it’s different for him. He wants to come out to everyone, but he’s not sure it matters, really. He doesn’t know what he wants to do. He could tell everyone. He could tell no one else. He’d like to, maybe, tell the boys. Tell Filippo. Tell those closest to him. Them. “Come here?” He’s pushing his books away, and Marti hesitates for only a moment before relenting, climbing onto the bed with him. 

Marti grins, before moving closer, leaning in to kiss Nico. Quickly, and Nico pulls him back in once he pulls back. 

“I should probably change it, though.” 

“Hmm?” Marti frowns, pulls back a little from their kiss.

“Not pansexual. Maybe just ━  _ Martino Rametta - sexual _ .” 

“Not a thing.” Nico lets a smirk curve his lips, “No, otherwise I’d have to reconsider. Come out as  _ Niccolò Fares  _ \- sexual.” 

“This is monogamy to a whole new level.” Nico teases. His hand reaches up to trace along Marti’s cheek. “Have you seen the other pride flags? Not just the rainbow one?” 

Marti shakes his head a little. 

“The pan colors are pink, yellow, and blue.” Marti nods, 

“Nice colors.” 

“Yeah. I used to do drawings and ━ use the colors. But I don’t anymore.” Marti frowns a little.

“Why?” 

“I’m not hiding it, not particularly. Guess I did it because I was worrying about it so much I needed an outlet. And I found the colors and it was inconspicuous enough since I never really showed anyone my drawings. It kind of helped. Let me see it in a ━ visible way. Plus, I couldn’t really compose a song called  _ ‘Hey, everyone, I’m pansexual _ .’ I don’t know, it’s kind of dumb. Like, you know something for a long time but you don’t think you can say something and so it kind of builds up and you have to do  _ something  _ to let it out, even a little bit. Even if it’s dumb.” He gaze drops, and he shrugs again. Marti knocks his knee against Nico’s.

“I get it. It builds up until you can’t breathe and everything seems to be about it. It doesn’t matter if you know it because,” Marti shrugs, and leans in a little closer to rest his his forehead against Nico’s, “you’re so afraid of what might happen if you admit it, whether to yourself or others that it just ━  _ Christ _ , just ━ it’s so nice to be able to breathe. Finally.” Nico lets his hand trace along Marti’s cheekbone.

“You’re happy?” A smile, and Marti nods, pushing a tiny bit closer to brush the tip of his nose against Nico’s.

“Yeah. I’m happy. So happy.” 


	3. eliott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plan was to have this chapter up last week but maybe it's slightly more relevant today, so i finished this instead of fully processing s4 ending! 
> 
> happy pride to everyone and i can't wait to see eliott demaury in season 5!

For Eliott, it’s quiet. Not because he’s particularly afraid, but more because he’s just ━ quiet. Quieter than Idriss or Sofiane and everyone else. He likes his books and films and music and drinking at parties makes him anxious. He just likes keeping to himself, and even if he keeps quiet, his mind is never, ever quiet.

He accepts how he feels long before he tells, first, Sofiane. He doesn’t think it really comes as any sudden shock. He’s been dropping hints, his heart stopping and breath catching for half a second every time he says something. Sofiane’s bright smile when Eliott quietly says, 

“I’m pansexual,” Makes him feel accepted. And he’s almost fifteen and he hasn’t kissed anyone yet, so for a little bit he doubts his feelings, but other people know they’re straight without kissing anyone, so he tells himself that he’s allowed to be this way. 

Sofiane, and Idriss, when Eliott tells him a month later, just as quietly, tease him relentlessly when he blushes after the boy at the coffee shop counter hands him his coffee and tells him to have a nice day. (Even though it’s his job and he says it to everyone, Eliott has a little crush and he’s fifteen, and a bit of a nervous wreck sometimes.) 

He tells them, in between homework and messing around and a beer on his part, that he kissed a boy, but he doesn’t think they’re going to date or anything, because he hasn’t replied to any of Eliott’s messages, but that’s okay because he was kind of boring,  _ anyway _ . And they react the same, he thinks, as if he had said he’d kissed a girl or he was, maybe, dating a girl. 

He learns how to, maybe not be less quiet, but be confidently quiet, letting people come to him. It’s a strange feeling, because he still likes his books and films and music and has to wear reading glasses  _ sometimes _ , and he feels a lot different than how people think he is when they first meet him. 

There are times he stands and stares at himself in the mirror, the polarity of vanity, and doesn’t quite recognize his face, trying to understand how he feels about himself. It’s weird when people tell him he’s attractive, because he doesn’t ━ see it. 

No, that sounds stupid. He, when he steps fully back, disconnects from himself, can see where people could see him as attractive, conventionally, especially when he allows himself to stand up straight and he rights his hair properly and smiles. 

But they don’t see him when he hasn’t slept for three weeks and gets sloppy, sloppy drunk and cries and cries and cries over who-knows-what and Sofiane is the only one who has seen him puking his guts out, crying more, and Sofiane is the one who has seen him  _ that bad _ . 

Or when he starts getting worse than he ever has before, but not as bad as he  _ will _ , and starts skipping classes to the point where Sofiane and Idriss show up at his parents’ place, looking for him, worried about why he hasn’t replied to them in a week. 

So, no. He doesn’t feel very attractive. And maybe that makes him sound vain and maybe a bit pretentious like -- _I'_ _ m not an airhead, I want to get to know people before anything else _ . Which is why his Instagram never has photos of himself and he bites his fingernails into his palms when his passport photo is taken, when his grandfather lines him and all his cousins up for photos and he’s jostled to the back, and he has to be told to stop messing with his hair. He can just barely keep himself still long enough for a couple good pictures. 

Or, more to the point, he’s not confident about a lot of the facets of who he is, how he is, how he looks, but at least he has his sexuality down. That’s something to be said. And when his mind gets darker and darker and he gains a hundred thousand problems, he has one thing that he’s certain of. 

He tells Lucille on their third date, just to make sure that he’s not getting into a relationship with someone that might be homophobic. She’s not. She asks him a few questions to better understand what he means. 

But she does ask him, just the once, if there’s something a guy could give him that she can’t. But he doesn’t want a guy. He just wants her. He tells her that, and she straightens up a bit, and it’s not as if she has a lack of self-esteem, but this seems to help her with any confidence that she was losing because of whatever she was worrying about.

And she does ask him if he’s ever been with a guy, before her. But, at least, he thinks, she also asks if he’s been with any girls before her. She tells him about her ex-boyfriends, one in collège, one in first year. He appreciates her attempts at being transparent. So he tells her about other people he’s been with, though, none were really long-term relationships, not like he and Lucille. 

It becomes a circle, though. A circle of mistrust and making up and being in love and ups and downs. Breaks and getting back together and he starts smoking more and drinking more, for a million reasons, not just a little relationship stress. 

A break in their relationship ends with him halfway across the city from his place, super drunk and having just hooked up, but he’s not familiar with where he is, so he calls her. Calls her and slurs out a plea for her to come pick him up. And she does. Even though it’s the middle of the night. And when she finds him, she helps him straighten his shirt and tells him to get his shoes on all the way and flattens out his hair. Gets him into her car, buckles his seatbelt. Says nothing about how he smells of sex and liquor and smoke. 

And when he asks her to stay, after she helps him get up the stairs, into his bed, she simply tells him to come see her when he’s sober, when he’s slept. 

And they get back together. And break up again. 

And she still stays when he hits the crest of his mania, cheats on her, and when he falls into the deep depressive episode afterwards. After he pushes away everyone else, she stays. She talks to his parents more than she talks to him or more than they talk to him, and they stand in the hallway of the hospital and pretend that he can’t hear what they’re saying. 

He expects her to sit and try and analyze him and figure out what was a result of his mania or what was just him being a bad person and he tries his best to keep focus off of him. He asks about her BAC results. She sighs and talks about how she did, how she’s sad that he’s not going to be in university with her. 

And he even pushes her away, as much as he can. Pushes her away and then he runs back to her when he realizes he doesn’t have anyone else to talk to. But that’s not satisfying anymore, it’s just the stability that is slowly crumbling away, more and more. 

“So you can already picture yourself with another girl right away?” Lucas asks him, and he wants to laugh or grin or just shake Lucas and say  _ no, it’s you I want _ .

“Yeah. But not necessarily a girl.” Is what he says instead, and restrains an all-encompassing grin when Lucas nearly gives himself whiplash, turning his head towards him. He wants to just kiss Lucas right now, he wants to tell him outright, but it’s  _ scary _ . 

And they stare at each other, they stare at each other for what feels like a million years, until a girl who Lucas seems to know, shows up and ruins their moment. Lucas’ small apologetic smile, his own promise to text him, and then Lucas darts across the street to help the girl with her luggage. He allows himself to smile as wide as he wanted, before, once he turns around, starts walking home. 

 

“Lucas?” He’s going to be obnoxious all month, he’s already decided it. And it’s early and Lucas is going to be grumpy when he shakes him awake, but he doesn’t  _ really  _ live here, so he needs Lucas’ help to find stuff in the kitchen. “Lucas, wake up.” Shakes Lucas shoulder lightly. Lucas, grumbling, turning away from the window, the morning light. 

“What do you want?” Lucas hides his face further into the pillow, “It’s early.” 

“Do you guys have food coloring?” 

“What?” Lucas sounds confused.

“I want to make pancakes but like ... Pride pancakes. Since it’s the first day of Pride month. For a celebration.” 

“I’m not eating anything you make.” Lucas mumbles, and finally pulls his face out of the pillow. 

“Mika can help me. Anyway, I can follow a recipe, okay? I’m great at following recipes.” Lucas rolls his eyes a little, but pushes himself up a little, chin tilting up, silently asking for a kiss. Which Eliott willingly gives, shifting on the bed to lean down and kiss him. 

“I’m going to have to watch over your cooking.” Lucas clears his throat a little, pulling back, letting himself flop back onto his pillow. “Also, I don’t know if we have food coloring. I never bought any. Maybe Mika has some? Or Lisa?” 

“I’d go out and buy some, if I need to.” 

“Why are you so awake, it’s fucking  _ early _ , Eliott.” Eliott can’t stop himself from smiling, even as Lucas closes his eyes again. 

“I’ll make you coffee right now if you get up and help me.” 

“It’s  _ Saturday _ , I want to sleep.” Lucas reaches out for him, his hand grabbing Eliott’s arm, pulling him a bit closer. “Sleep with me, stay here. You can make pancakes later.” 

“I’m making them now, I already turned on the stove.” Lucas’ eyes flash open.

“It’s on? And you’re  _ here?  _ Christ, Eliott. Go back out there.” Eliott grins at him, “Fuck, okay. I’ll get up. And help you.” 

“You know you’re supposed to heat up the pan before you put the batter in.” Lucas pushes him away, tries to push him off the bed, “Mean.” He pouts, but gets back up, “Put clothes on, and I’ll make you coffee.” 

He’s rummaging through the cabinets, searching, but finding no food coloring, and Lucas joins him within minutes, immediately jumping to turn off the stove. 

“Why’d you do that?” He frowns.

“Show me the batter you’ve made and you can turn it back on.”  _ Fair _ . Lucas reaches up to grab his coffee mug from the cabinet, and pours his coffee. “Find any food coloring?” He takes a sip of his coffee. 

“No. You guys are so boring. Nothing. How am I supposed to celebrate Pride if I don’t have any coloring?” 

“You don’t have to make pancakes.” 

“I want to do something. I haven’t really done anything super Pride celebration-y before. I saw this video of like a rainbow cheesecake, but I figured with my abilities it’d just turn out grey, which is not what I want.” He shrugs, and Lucas shifts closer, sets down his coffee on the counter. 

“A rainbow cheesecake? Maybe you could send it to Manon or something. See if she’d show you how to do it. Or help you with it, so you only put the appropriate ingredients in it.” Lucas looks up at him, his hand sliding around his waist. “I want a whole rainbow cheesecake just for me. That’s what gay rights are.” 

“I’m  _ trying  _ to make you gay pancakes this morning, but you don’t have any  _ food coloring _ , Lucas. It’s a disgrace. You should always have it on hand for Pride month.” Lucas smiles at him, “I’m serious, Lucas.” 

“If you wait for me to wake up a bit, I’ll go with you to buy some.” Lucas offers, and pushes up on his toes to kiss Eliott quickly, and then pulls back to grab his coffee again. 

“Do they sell pink food coloring?” 

“I’ve  _ never  _ bought food coloring in my entire life. I have no idea.” Lucas shrugs, and Eliott grins.

“I’m going to make you gay pancakes and pansexual pancakes for me.” 

“Pansexual pancakes?” Lucas questions, 

“Yeah. Me, I’m pansexual.” Lucas nods, and grins. 

“That’s cool. Does it ━ Like, Alexia told us about the Kinsey scale? Do you know about that?” Lucas takes another sip of his coffee, fingers tapping a little on the mug, hands curled around it. 

“Yeah. I’ve heard of it, I’ve read a bit on it. I never gave myself a Kinsey scale number or anything.” Lucas nods, and Eliott grins. 

“It’s really interesting.” Lucas drinks some more coffee. “I mean, I’m totally  _ exclusively homosexual _ , but it’s interesting how for a lot of people it’s not that strict binary or something, I don’t know.” Eliott moves closer and reaches to rest his hand on Lucas’ waist. 

“It’s totally interesting.” Lucas shrugs again and leans closer to him, “It’s cool that you read up on it.” Lucas nods, 

“I wanted to ━ know stuff.” Lucas takes another sip of his coffee. “I don’t think I know the colors for pansexuality, though. Like, there’s other pride flag colors, right?” 

“It’s pink, yellow, and blue. For pansexuality.” Lucas sets his coffee off to the side and his hands move to rest on Eliott’s chest, moving in front of him. His other hand goes to rest on Lucas’ waist also, and he pulls him closer. It makes Lucas smile more.

“That’s cool. Very cool.” 

“It is cool.” 

“Cool.” Eliott can never stop smiling when Lucas is around, when Lucas is around and they’re doing well. Lucas leans up to kiss him, but he pulls back, 

“No, you have coffee breath.” Lucas gasps at him.

“You  _ have to _ . It’s Pride month, remember? Have you already forgotten?” 

“ _ Coffee breath. _ ” Eliott repeats, “It’s unforgivable.” 

“You made me coffee.” Lucas rolls his eyes, hand tracing up to Eliott’s cheek, “If you don’t want to kiss me, you can just say.” It’s teasing, but Eliott leans down to kiss him. And again. 

“I always want to kiss you.” He says quietly, and Lucas’ smile is fully back. “ _ Even if _ you have coffee breath.” 


End file.
